Finding The Heart To End It
by Stoneage Woman
Summary: This a sequel to Skye12's Just Don't Have The Heart To End It. Skye challenged her readers to write a sequel and I did. The summary of her story the prequel is included inside. No slash, oneshot.


Notes to readers: Skye12 challenged all the people who read her story "Just Don't Have The Heart To End It" to write a sequel. That story is basically about Frodo's pain and torture if he didn't go into the West at the end of ROTK. It is a very sad fic and angst- filled. It's about how no one ever has the heart to end his pain. You should go and read that before you read this, but you _can_ manage with this too.

Well, I decided to write the sequel, so here it is:

By the way, "---*---" signifies a flashback while "~~*~~" signifies change of scene.

Title: Finding The Heart To End It

"No! Get away from me, I tell you! You will not have it!" Frodo writhed on the bed. Merry-lad and Pippin-lad were having a hard time keeping him down on his bed.

"Mr. Frodo, Mr. Frodo, don't fret so," Sam said soothingly. 

Frodo's writhing form slowly became still.  "Sam," he whispered.

Sam's eyes widened as sanity flickered in those eyes. It had been a month now since this had happened.

"Sam, I beg you," Frodo said pleadingly. "End this. Put me out of my misery. _Please_ let me die."

Sam wept. "I can't Mr. Frodo! How can I end it?! You are my dearest friend; you could even qualify as my father or older brother. I've always loved and respected you." He paused. Then he spoke in a quavering voice. "Would you have done it Mr. Frodo? If the situations were reversed? Would you have been able to kill me?"

"No," Frodo muttered. Sanity was quickly leaving him. Images of a golden ring doused in flame, its center housing an all too familiar red eye danced across his vision. He strove to keep the reason; speaking quickly, for he knew he didn't have much time left to convince Sam. "I wouldn't. Because if the situations were reversed, then I would never be able to even comprehend the magnitude of pain _you_ would be suffering day and night, morning and evening, every second of your waking and dreaming life.  But I'm glad." His voice was fading. "Thank God the situation is not reversed. I would rather be boiled alive than have you suffer what I'm feeling now." Exhaustion was taking him. "Please…. consider…if you love me nearly as much as you claim to, you will know that this is the right thing." His head drooped onto his chest as he fell into a fitful stupor.

Merry and Pippin let go of him cautiously, and slowly walked out, exhausted. Elanor drifted into the room, holding Elfstan in her arms and motioned for Sam to come out, to take a break.

Sam hesitated for an instance; then willingly complied. He wanted more than anything to think for a while about what Frodo had said to him. It had stunned him completely, and now he was earnestly beginning to think whether he really should put Frodo's misery to an end. One sedative too many or perhaps an injection from a doctor, that would be all it would take. He cringed at the thought. No, no he couldn't. He couldn't kill Frodo just like that. Not his best friend. He would never be able to forgive himself after.

He wandered out of the front door into the purple twilight. Not a star could be seen. The skies were overcast by angry, dark, shadowy clouds. The flowers stirred in their beds, their petals waving a welcome to the rains. A strong wind was blowing. The blades of the rich, green grass moved with the wind.

It was a beautiful evening. He caught his breath as the chillingly cold wind whipped his face. The rain began to fall. He allowed it to fall into his hair and trickle down his cheeks. He shut his eyes. It had been years and years since he had just enjoyed rain like this. 

His mind drifted to a similar occasion long ago, before Elanor had been born.

---*---

_Sam was tending to the gardens. Frodo was sprawled on the grass watching a tiny ladybird inch its way into the shelter of a large flower. The sun was quickly disappearing behind clouds. The wind blew lightly caressing Sam's cheek._

_It made Sam feel as if he was a small hobbit-lad of seven again.  He danced towards Frodo._

_"Mr. Frodo, please tell me a story," he said._

_Frodo smiled at him, and played along. "Alright Sam-lad. Which story do you want?"_

Soon Frodo was gesticulating with his hands, telling Sam a story. They were both enjoying playing around, and acting as if they were both very young and had very few cares. It began to drizzle. Sam jumped up and began to frolic in the rain, inviting Frodo to join him. They danced in merriment, chasing each other around, rolling over and over on the ground, like two mad, over-excited puppies.

---*---

 A few tears rolled down Sam's cheeks. Frodo would never laugh like that again. He would never be able to tell a story. Never be able to experience the joys of ordinary life.

 It wasn't fair. How could someone who had done so much for the world have to be subject to so much suffering? He turned to go inside, his heart heavy. He knew he would never have the heart to end Frodo's misery. But he was beginning to wonder if that was quite right.

~~*~~

A few days after that, a knock sounded at the door. Sam went to open it, and found himself staring into the face of an elderly hobbit.

"Asher Browning at your service," the hobbit said bowing.

"Samwise Gardener at yours," Sam returned. "May I ask who you are, exactly?"

"I am a doctor. I've come to examine Frodo Baggins."

"But we didn't summon any doctor," Sam said, warily, "I'm afraid we do not need your services."

"That's for me to decide," Asher Browning said surprisingly, and pushed his way past Sam into the house.

Sam felt rather over-whelmed. "Please sit down, Mr. Browning." 

"I would like to see Frodo first," said the other, "where is he?"

In any other circumstance Sam would have just told the doctor to leave. Heaven knew Frodo had seen enough doctors to last him a lifetime, for all the good it had done him. But Mr. Browning seemed different. He was brisk and confident, and he had very sensitive eyes. He carried the feeling of composure and Sam felt that he was one doctor, unlike the rest, who knew what he was talking about. Wordlessly, he opened the door to the study. Frodo was yelling at the top of his voice.

"Never! Never! Get away from me you foul creature. Sam! Sam! He's taking the ring. The Eye is almost upon me! Help me, Sam!"

"I'm here Mr. Frodo, I'm here," Sam said, hurrying forward. "No one's trying to take it from you," He pinned Frodo down to the bed. Frodo struggled against him with brutal strength. "The sedative," he gasped to Mr. Browning, nodding towards the bottle on Frodo's bedside. Asher administered a small doze of the sedative to Frodo. Within moments the hobbit was out cold.

Sam beckoned Mr. Browning to the living room. "Well?" he asked. "Can you find anyway to help him?"

"I did not come here with any expectations, and nor do I find any now," the other said sadly. Sam buried his head in his arms and began to cry. 

"But I do have another suggestion to make, if you will hear me out."

Sam raised his head.

"I am not really a doctor. Like my father I'm a bit of a gardener and a chemist. My father used to love experimenting with different roots and herbs, making various antidotes. No one ever took him seriously. One day he broke his back. He could never move after that. It was a tragedy for someone so athletic as him. He wanted to die. He said life had nothing more to offer him. He begged and begged me to put an end to his misery. But I…I just didn't have the heart. 

"But one day he called me by his side and explained to me he would be much, much happier if he were dead. He said he understood that I loved him dearly and perhaps the reason I did not want to end his suffering was because I would be very sad if he died. But he said _he _would be happier. And if I really loved him, then that should make _me_ happy.  So I resolved to end his misery. I experimented with some of my previously made antidotes, or poisons if you will, and added a mallorn leaf from your garden. And then I fed it to my father. But it didn't kill him immediately. Something in the antidote conditioned his mind to enjoy the life he had, and he died in his sleep, with a smile on his face, two weeks after I started giving him the antidote. That smile, and the fact that he enjoyed his last breaths of life gave me a good deal of joy. Since then I have started to fervently believe that euthanasia is the right course of action for people who suffer more than they can bear endlessly." Asher paused for a breath, a strange expression on his face.

"I refuse," Sam said in an angry, shaking voice, "to do that to Mr. Frodo. If this is all that you came to tell me-"

"Don't jump to conclusions," Asher said sharply, "I don't expect you to be able to just end his misery just like that, so quickly and easily. But with time he will make you realize that it is what would make _him_ happy, and that would make you happy. So I will just leave this antidote here with you. If you do decide to use it-"

"That I won't!" Sam interjected vehemently.

"If you do decide to use it," Asher said again, holding up his hand, "give him a dose of a few drops every evening. I will drop by in a few days to see if you have changed your mind," he began to rise, "till then, goodbye." He pressed the bottle of antidote (_or poison,_ Sam thought distastefully) into Sam's hand.

"Goodbye," Sam returned, ushering the hobbit towards the door.

~~*~~

That night, Sam stood outside Frodo's room in the study. He watched his master writhing on the bed, shouting and sweating, and drooling.

"Please end this," Frodo said despairingly to no one in particular. "Someone. Anyone. Just try to understand."

"Is that what will make you happier?" Sam said, coming to a decision.

"More than anything," his master whispered.

"Then I will," Sam, said, the words coming out in a sob. "If it kills me, I will."

"Thank you, Sam," Frodo whispered. "I knew you would understand."

A tired, but very joyful smile spread over Frodo's features as Sam reached for the antidote.

"Father!" Elanor cried, as she came in, and saw what he was doing, "What are you-"

"I have finally found the heart to end it," Sam said, pouring a few drops of antidote down Frodo's throat. Frodo sank into deep, natural, dreamless sleep almost immediately. His breathing became very even. Elanor's eyes widened with wonder. It seemed like an age since Frodo had ever been able to sleep like this, so peacefully.

"Father, I am happy for you. And him," Elanor said, hugging Sam.

"So am I," Sam answered, watching Frodo's sleeping form.

~~*~~

A week after that Frodo was sitting sprawled on a deck chair in the garden, finishing the long incomplete tale of Bilbo the Barrel-rider to Elanor.

And he did not forget the part about Bilbo saying, "Thag you berry buch."

The medicine had healed Frodo's mind but had taxed his body a great deal. He could not do much but sit in chairs or lie on beds; but he was able to think straight, he no longer had fits of insanity. He was able to spend time with Sam, the children, and even little Elfstan.  He could finally enjoy his life, and even if he had only a few days of it left, he was far, far happier now than he had been in years.

The laughter of Frodo, Elanor, Merry-lad, Pippin-lad, and Goldilocks drifted into the living room window.

Asher Browning looked out, and smiled questioningly at Sam, asking him with his eyes whether he was now satisfied or not.

"Thank you, Mr. Browning," Sam said softly. "You were right. It was the best thing I could have done."

 "But it took a great deal of courage," Asher replied. "Trust me, I know how it feels. But you must be so happy now that he is at least enjoying life again, even if not for too long."

Sam nodded, "I'm immensely happy that I finally found the heart to end it."

~~*~~

THE END

Notes from the Stone Age:

I always called the poison that killed Frodo "medicine" or "antidote" because it actually healed his mind. He was happy again. It acted like a medicine for his mind, but it killed his body.

Okay, bye for now, and please do review. 


End file.
